Everything
by ZBBZL
Summary: She's afraid and she's confused but there's one thing that remains an evidence: she is here for him. KD. Post 5x01, Ascension.


Title: _Everything_  
Timeline: post 5x01, "Ascension."  
Summary: _And she desperately needs for him to tell her in which capacity she can help him because she doesn't know how, and she's afraid and she's confused but there's one thing that remains an evidence: she is here for him._

**A/N**: Let's all enjoy (or cry) my last week before going to class and retiring for good. ;) My take on the premiere, on Deeks and Kensi and where we gonna go from here. Also, apologies to all the people who got notifications for this story yesterday. The website kept stripping off every word before a period, so all the sentences were cut before their end. Hopefully you'll still want to read now.

_For Jess._

* * *

He vaguely remembers hearing about Callen's time as a magician – an _illusionist_, actually, the team leader had felt the need to correct – and the ghost of a smile tugs at Deeks' lips as he imagines him picking women up with magic tricks. There's no flower or bird or rabbit tonight, though, but fake teeth that just seem to make the beautiful blonde with legs that never end at the bar giggle loudly as she blinks her lashes, bright pearly white smile on.

"Maybe it's your lucky night, Deeks," Sam chuckles, nodding his head at Callen. "If he can make Blondie laugh with that, imagine how she'll swoon over you."

He feels Kensi freeze at his side; feels the chill running through her body as their arms touch, probably the closest they've been since… _Yeah_. Sam's humor really needs improvement, true, but surprisingly, Deeks finds that he's glad for the distraction, for the attempt at joking around what they both went through – Sam has been tortured just like him, after all – because he needs a laugh. He needs the proof that he still can find joy in life, despite how dark his thoughts have been and still are.

He turns his head to her, taking in the crease between her brows, the tremor that makes her bottom lip tremble ever so lightly. If they were alone, he would just brush his fingers to hers, maybe even boldly lace them together; he would loop an arm around her shoulders, whisper soothing words in her ear – _but_ they're not alone. Sam is here, Callen is flirting over there, and deep down, Deeks reckons that they both are relieved to not be alone because what had started earlier in the bullpen – _God_, what had started years ago, the spark turning into a wild fire what seems like an eternity ago when his lips touched hers – left them both _wondering_. Wondering what would have happened if she hadn't had to leave and stay with Michelle; if Granger hadn't told her that they needed to go; if Sam and Callen hadn't walked in on them in the bullpen.

Wondering, and maybe even _dreading_. Dreading what could have happened, or what would happen.

Sam brings his beer to his lips, his attention back to Callen, and his fingers find hers before he can think about it. Deeks squeezes her hand gently, his thumb softly tracing her knuckles, and he feels Kensi squeeze back as she lifts up her face to look at him; when her warm dark eyes meet his, fear and relief and hope and joy and _everything_ gleaming in them, Deeks feels a sense of peace settling over him for the first time today.

He doesn't know if she's the one pulling back or if he did, but the next moment their fingers just seem to naturally untangle, still brushing as they resume their position, arms touching, the electricity jumping from her skin to his. He watches her quietly as she bites down on her lip, gently worrying it between her teeth, her gaze flickering down to their hands; he can see she's struggling to find her words, so he just waits, toying with the straw in the drink he hasn't even taken a sip from. Somehow, Sam has left the booth and joined Callen for another round of beers at the bar, and they're alone again. At last?

"I, uh, I just want you to know that…" She pauses, briefly closing her eyes, her last words just a low whisper dancing on her lips. Deeks allows himself to stare at them, those pink, plump lips he'd kissed, that he'd wanted to for so long; and now, their faces just mere inches from each other, he wonders if it'll ever happen again. If that's something she'd wanted to do, too – if it's something she could still want now. "I would have stayed with you at the hospital if I could," she finally tells him, her gaze flicking up to his, her eyes locked with his as she continues. "I would have untied you and got you out of there if –"

"_He_ would have killed Michelle if you'd done that," Deeks interrupts her, pain throbbing again in his mouth as he bites the inside of his cheek. _Sidorov_. It's just a name; and yet he can't pronounce it, can't say the name of the man who tried to break him – the man who came so close to succeeding. He rakes a hand through his hair, nervously tugging at the strands at the nape of his neck – he's been on edge all day, just so nervous whenever he's been around her, smooth and charming Marty Deeks completely forgotten. "You know, I've had time to think, for _seven_ hours…" he starts, his voice slightly trembling as he can hear the ticking of the clock in his head as the hours had passed, each bringing another round of endless torture. "I've been _there_. Thinking that maybe I shouldn't have rushed in to save Sam, and waited for back-up…" He shakes his head, the thought only _unbearable_; he would have never done that, and neither would have Kensi, that Deeks is absolutely certain of with everything that he is. That's just not who they are. "But in the end, I did what I had to, just like you. The one person we should blame, well, is dead now, so there's no point lingering on that at all," he finishes with a shrug.

He sees that she wants to argue – can almost hear her objections before they even cross her lips – so Deeks lifts a hand to her face, gently pressing a single fingertip to her lips to silence her. There's really nothing he can add; today, he thinks, he's said it all, and if anything earlier in the bullpen he's tried his hardest to say exactly what he meant.

_It's you._

His hand drops back to the table, and Kensi just stares up at him, mouth agape, eyes wide, very much like she'd done in the desert after he kissed her. This time, though, she doesn't seem to be in any rush to run away; instead, her hand falls to his knee, gently squeezing. And the simple gesture gives him the courage to ask, voice out how he's been feeling for the past hour or so, "Can we get out of here?" he asks, a silent plea edging in his low tone. "People are just _staring_," he adds, briefly glancing around and spotting two women staring at him and the scars grazing his face.

"Sure," Kensi replies, giving him a small smile. She finds Callen's gaze through the crowd, and a nod is enough between them for him to understand. They make their way out, and for the first time Kensi actually notices that Deeks was right; people _are_ staring at him, and she feels incredibly guilty for not realizing it sooner. For the past hour, Callen and Sam have tried to pretend that everything was okay, when in all reality, tonight has been one of the rare few exceptions when they've initiated asking Deeks to join them; Kensi, she's mostly been watching Deeks, and Deeks, he's been staring at a drink he didn't even touch – an hour is an awfully long time when spent like this.

She does it because she wants to, and maybe because a little part of her _needs_ to – Kensi reaches out for him, gently grabbing his elbow with both her hands as she loops her arm around his. Her hold is light, soft, gentle; she's almost afraid that he'll break. But he doesn't.

Instead, he smiles, and she doesn't even mind the single tear rolling down the corner of her eye.

-:-

Somehow they end up at the beach.

They implicitly agree to take a walk, maybe because none of them is ready to let go of the other; and halfway through, they've realized how much they've needed it – just taking a deep breath, the _first_, really, in what seemed to be the longest day ever.

For fifteen minutes, they're silent, aimlessly strolling along, still linked by the arm. She's trying to think of something to say; he's trying _not_ to. They meet halfway, in the end; her hand drifts to his, and he simply squeezes it whenever she says something – depending on the pressure, Kensi knows if she can go on or drop the subject. She dances around it, of course; how is she supposed to go straight to the point and tell him she's sorry for running away after he kissed her? For everything that happened to him; for not being there to have his back, for not putting him first, _for everything_. So she stops apologizing, and instead, she just tells him about how she _feels_, with no walls on, no defenses up – nothing but the truth.

She's afraid and she's confused and today has been the worst day of her life.

And she desperately needs for him to tell her in which capacity she can help him because she doesn't know _how_, and she's afraid and she's confused but there's one thing that remains an evidence: she _is_ here for him.

It's only when he feels the sand between his toes and fingers that he finds his voice back; he's been struggling not to break down, terrified that if he opened his mouth he would, but _here_, with the fresh night breeze, the salty, familiar scent of the ocean, the sound of the waves as they soothingly crash down against the shore… He _knows_ he can do this. He knows he can be strong, at least enough to have this conversation – or else they'll never have it. "I don't know, Kens," he replies quietly, her nickname falling off his lips in a quiet murmur, and honest to God, he _doesn't_. He doesn't know what to say because he doesn't know what he needs. At the hospital, he'd been unable to meet her gaze, panic overwhelming him; but when he'd woken up, slowly coming to through the haze of drug-induced sleep, his heart had caught in his throat as he'd find himself alone again – like he'd always been. And he'd needed her – wanted her by his side.

When he stops and thinks about it, _that's_ the most honest thing he can admit to: he always wants her. But that's not a fair thing to confess when just hours ago he was convinced that his career was over; when he'd almost told her so, saying he wanted to walk away, not even able to bring himself to answer her plea when she'd asked if it meant he wanted to walk away from everyone.

"I don't know what I need or what I want right now," he continues, his voice just barely above a whisper, and it's only her proximity to him that allows Kensi to hear him over the quiet thud of the tide. "Right now, I don't know anything."

There's a gravity to his words that shakes Kensi to the core. Not so much because she's not used to this side of Deeks, but more because she's so completely at a loss to what to do and _doing_ is what she does; she can't stand passiveness, stillness. She needs to do something so she doesn't feel entirely powerless, useless. "Do you…" she starts just as quietly, her words almost delivered in his ear as they sit so close to each other, shoulder and hip and leg touching, her chin almost resting on his shoulder as he stares ahead in the distance. She swallows hard, but gets the words out anyway. "Do you know if you want to figure that out on your own, or, uh, if you might want some help?" she finally asks.

Kensi doesn't know what she'll do if he says no.

Then again earlier she had simply said _okay_, and turned around, ready to leave before he'd called her back.

It's a mistake she won't do again.

He almost chuckles; for someone who called him out on his communication skills, Kensi sure is not very eloquent tonight. But he gets it, so Deeks just turns to face her, deep blue boring into dark brown and he feels more than he sees her shiver. "When you gave me that box," he starts, a tiny grin tugging at his lips when he remembers how many nights he's laid awake, thinking about what it could be, or about why he still hadn't opened it, "you told me that there was everything I've ever wanted in it. And that's not true." Kensi frowns for a second, before he can see realization finally dawning on her; still, he presses. "Because that's _you_. Nothing else. But I don't know what I need or what I'll need tomorrow. I don't know how to get over today," he admits.

That's the worst part, he thinks. Not the torture, but being so close and yet so far apart; having caught a glimpse, however short, of completion, happiness, and now being unable to reach for it again without feeling the heavy weight of guilt and pain.

Kensi shifts against him, her knee touching his thigh as she turns fully to him, one hand digging in the sand, the other tentatively resting on his chest, palm flat over his heart. "I can't say I would have kissed you back even if I hadn't had to go with Michelle," she admits softly, and his first instinct is to pull back but her fingers clench over the fabric of his shirt immediately. "Not because I didn't want it to happen, but because I was scared," she adds. "I wasn't scared because we're partners and it's going to be a hell of a mess," Kensi says, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "I was scared because I wanted it and I haven't wanted something like that since… And I didn't know what to do with that."

The question is on his lips before he can stop it. "And do you now?"

She nods. "I'm not going to kiss you because I feel guilty and bad for you," she starts, her tongue briefly darting out between her lips. "I'm not going to kiss you to numb the pain. I'm not going to kiss you because it's easier than talking," she explains. "I'm going to kiss you because I want to."

She leans in, and really, in the minute space between them, her lips are lingering above his within the blink of an eye. His next words come out in a whisper, his breath mingling with hers. "I kissed you because I wanted to. I _still_ want to," he says, "but what about tomorrow?" he asks, and she hears in his voice something she has never heard before; a scared, lost little boy. "I won't lie and pretend I can be okay tomorrow because I don't even know that. I don't want to ruin this."

Her lips land at the corner of his mouth, dropping a kiss there. "Well, I guess that tomorrow you're back to smoothies and purées for quite a while," she whispers, the hint of amusement in her tone. She feels him grin, and she continues, "Tomorrow's another day; why can't we worry about that later?"

It's true. But before tomorrow comes, there's still tonight, and no matter how soft her lips are on his skin, no matter how gentle her voice is, no matter the comfort her presence brings, Deeks _cannot_ not worry. Because tonight he's afraid to go to sleep, and close his eyes and relive some of his darkest hours; because he's afraid of waking up in the morning and still feel that ache in his chest, that fear pumping through his veins that urged him earlier to pick up his things and just run away for good. What if it's still there tomorrow? What if a kiss or a hug or soothing words are not enough and tomorrow he leaves her?

She soothes the storm of questions racing through his mind with another tender kiss softly pressed to his cheek. Kensi sighs, the warmth of her breath tickling him, and then she pulls back to look him in the eye again. "_We_ never go for simple, you know that," she says simply, lifting a hand to his face and gently brushing her fingers to the bruise on his jaw. "This is gonna be tough. We're gonna scream at each other and say horrible things, we're gonna hurt and we're gonna want to just run away." It's everything he's _terrified_ of, and yet Kensi's so calm, so composed as she enumerates them. "There will be tears and screams and nightmares, but _no_ _leaving_. Do you hear me? I don't care if it takes us three hours or three months, but you'll be sitting at your desk watching me empty your not-so-secret candy stash again. You're gonna try to steal my keys and I'll still be faster and race you to the car. You're gonna ask me if I'm okay and I won't be able to lie to you because I never can. _That's_ us."

_Us_.

She watches him quietly for a moment, seeing in his blue eyes the conflict from inside. She knows that it won't be easy; that, God, it's not fair that it has to be so hard – but they'll make it. They'll figure it out, like they always do.

This time, when she leans in, he doesn't stop her. Instead, he responds to the soft pressure of her lips with eagerness, bringing his hands to cup her cheeks as hers clench around the collar of his shirt. He thinks of the first time they kissed, a year ago, undercover as blissfully married Justin and Melissa Waring; he thinks of the day before, their first real kiss. There was not-so-unexpected heat in the first, urgency and desire and need in the second; there's _everything_ in this one.

They part after a long moment filled with soft pecks and quiet sighs. Her head finds his shoulder, and Kensi drapes an arm across his torso as they fall against the soft sand, the other tucked between her body and his as they lay together, his own arms naturally wrapping around her.

Her hair tickles his throat, dark silk waves that smell like _life_.

Sunshine and gunpowder.

Another thing that helped him through.

(He won't lie and pretend he didn't think of her lips, too.)

-:-

She dozes off at some point, the exhaustion and overwhelming emotions from the day finally pulling her in, and Deeks knows she'll probably hate herself for it when she wakes up, but for now, he just holds her close and he knows in this instant that he'll _never_ let go.

Maybe he'll yell; maybe she'll cry. Maybe they'll both hurt and scream and want to run.

So they'll hurt and scream.

But they won't run.

You don't run away from the person who's your everything.

* * *

_the end_


End file.
